Shades of Love
by lizook
Summary: A series of oneshot drabbles, double drabbles, and ficlets featuring B&B. Possibly other characters in the future. Ratings vary chap to chap; since chap 1 is M the whole story gets that classification.Now up: commentfic chaps 25, 26, & 27, and new chap 28
1. The Pauli Exclusion Principle

**Spoilers: **Reference to 3x03 _Death in the Saddle_

**A/N:** This is the first drabble I've attempted. I hope it's, at least, somewhat successful.

**Disclaimer: **Nope, I don't own Bones.

* * *

When it's good, he had said, it breaks the laws of physics. He was right. She'd never experienced it like that with anyone except him - _she didn't want to_ - but he was still right. She was sure she'd never admit it aloud; it would just inflate his ego even further. Instead, she showed him every time they were together.

Sometimes it was slow, tender. The gentle meeting of two people meant to be in that moment. Other times, it was hungry and passionate, leaving them both shaking. Breathless. It didn't matter either way; it - _he - _always left her feeling complete.


	2. It's the One Thing I Can't Ignore

**A/N** :It took a ridiculous amount of time for me to edit this today. Hopefully, it was worth it.

**Disclaimer: **Bones does not belong to me. Title taken from Vince Gill's song _Everything and Nothing_.

* * *

He opened the container of mee krob, tilting it towards her in a silent offer. Always attempting to take care of her. It should annoy her, but she expected - _enjoyed_ - it now.

He was many things. A study in contradictions. Booth the protector, the father. Sexy without being overtly so. Darkness and light. Sometimes, when his past came flooding back, he'd retreat. Lately, she felt him reaching out. Towards her. She loved him for it - _all of it_. She couldn't say it aloud yet. She could barely admit it to herself, but she knew it was true. She loved him.


	3. Faith

**Spoilers: **4x12 _Double Trouble in the Panhandle_

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Bones or its characters. It'd be nice to borrow Booth for a bit though…

* * *

He found her attractive almost from the moment they'd met. A force to be reckoned with, yes, but beautiful nonetheless. Standing here in these ridiculous outfits caused the thought to flit through his mind for the nineteenth or twentieth - oh, who was he kidding? More like, hundredth or thousandth - time during their partnership.

"I coulda killed you!" His mustache itched and he fought to keep himself from reaching up to rip it off.

"Therein lies the excitement!" Her eyes - eye; he couldn't see one under the eye patch - sparkled.

He couldn't pinpoint the moment it had happened. He knew it was longer ago than he cared to admit. He supposed, if he thought about it, it had been an accumulation of moments that finally came together and presented him with the truth: he loved her. Yes, no particular moment stood out to him, but this one…well, he hadn't thought it possible, but he was pretty sure he'd just fallen even harder. The way she had said it without a moment's hesitation, her excitement and complete, underlying trust evident. It made his blood quicken, his heart pound.

He raised an eyebrow, the 'really?' going unspoken. She nodded, smiling back at him, and he felt his own mouth quirk up in response. "Come on, Bones," His voice dropped as he reached out and slung his arm across her shoulders, needing to feel her in that moment. "let's go solve a murder."


	4. I'll Be Your Novocaine

**Disclaimer**_: _No, Santa didn't bring me Bones for Christmas. Title from the Little Big Town song _Novocaine_.

**Spoilers**: Reference to 3x05 _Mummy in the Maze_.

**A/N**: I've had this idea jotted down for a while so I was excited when it seemed to want to be written this weekend. I hope you enjoy. :)

* * *

"Bones?" Booth's voice preceded him into her office by mere seconds.

"Yeah?" She stood and reached for her lab coat.

"I was just dropping off some more background information on the Scardino case." He paused, glancing at the coat rack. "Ange said you had a doctor's appointment and that you'd probably left already..."

"I'm not going."

"Why not?" He set the stack of papers on her desk and turned to face her, an eyebrow quirking in question.

"It's just an appointment for a tetanus shot." She slid into her coat. "Nothing I can't miss. There's too much for me to be working on here anyhow."

"The lab is not going to fall apart if you leave for an hour to get a shot."

"Obviously. I leave all the time to go out in the field. There's a lot going on this week though with the case, the research we're helping Jack with, and-" Her voice dropped until it was nearly inaudible. In fact, Booth found himself leaning in to catch what she said. "I don't really like needles."

"You're afraid of needles?" His head tilted as if appraising her. "That's not logical."

"And a fear of clowns _is_?"

"I'm not afraid of clowns! I just don't like them very much."

"Parsnip, parsnipe."

"Po-tay-toe, po-tah-toe." He shook his head. These little quirks of hers didn't really surprise him anymore. Actually, they were quite...endearing. "And stop trying to change the subject. You're really afraid of needles?"

"I'm not afraid of them. I'm just not..._fond_ of them."

He felt the corner of his mouth turn up, but otherwise let the comment slide. "You've survived shots in the past. Why not go and get it over with?"

"Those were shots I needed to have to travel. This is voluntary." She glanced out into the lab only to find that Clark had finished the work for Hodgins. She shrugged off her coat and started towards the papers he'd just deposited on her desk.

"Obviously, your doctor doesn't think so." He stepped in between her and the desk. "Come on, I'll take you." He draped his arm across her shoulders and started propelling her out the door of her office. She smiled, relaxing against him. Somehow his presence alone eased any tension surrounding her. She wasn't about to analyze that now; she just enjoyed it. "Let's go," He chuckled and turned, shooting her one of his brightest charm smiles. "you can even squeeze my hand..."


	5. You Could Pick Me Up When I Fall

**A/N**: My Muse literally woke me up with this this morning. The first time I've written in the first person so I apologize if the voice is off. Post ep for 4x13 _Fire in the Ice. _Title found in Bruce Hornsby's _I Will Walk with You_.

* * *

I grab onto his hand as he pulls me out onto the ice. I almost immediately fall, but he's there in a second, helping me up to regain my footing. _Who thought this would be a good idea? And how can he make me feel so unsteady and so balanced all at once? _We turn the corner and he takes my hand again, guiding me along. I finally find some sense of balance and he lets go.

For some unknown reason – _Sweets would have a field day with this_ – it reminds me of all the times over the course of our partnership that his hand has been pressed into the small of my back or his arm has been draped across my shoulders. It occurs to me that any other man would've received, at the very least, a knee to the groin for even attempting it. It's intimate in a way I can't understand. Maybe I don't want to. I reach for his hand again.

I hear myself talking about entropy and how things inevitably change. I can't help it; science explains everything. His voice cuts through my internal monologue as he responds.

"Not everything, Bones, not everything."

The words lodge in my head before trickling down to reside in my heart. And, as he spins me in a circle, his hands press into my sides and I can't help but think that he's right.


	6. More Like Her

**Spoilers: **4x13 _Fire in the Ice _tag

**Disclaimer: **Title from Miranda Lambert's song of the same name, which sparked the idea for this one. And, oh yeah, Bones doesn't belong to me.

* * *

Twinkly eyes, she had said, resulted from the dilating of the pupils, which was the direct result of - what was that again? - intense attraction. Or desire. Something along those lines. All I knew was that it implied that he didn't flirt with every woman he met on the job; that I might be special.

Through the crimson glass, I watch as he sits up from the ice; eyes bleary, unfocused. Yet, even from this distance, I can tell. They sweep over her in confusion and then - there's no way I'm imagining it - they twinkle. But it's more than that. There's a heat, an intensity there, that's so powerful I feel like a voyeur even in the filled arena. I force myself to look away and find I'm staring at the bags of evidence she left at my feet as she rushed out onto the ice. I shake my head and settle back against the bench. We could probably go on a couple dates, maybe even enjoy some time between the sheets, but he'd never be mine.


	7. Couldn't Stop Your Leavin'

**Spoilers/Timeline: **Set between 3x14 _The Wannabe in the Weeds _and 3x15 _The Pain in the Heart_.

**A/N**: I know these types of drabbles have probably been done to death, but **CupcakeBean **and I were discussing what we didn't get to see during those two weeks and this infiltrated my brain; probably the closest thing to angst that I'll ever write. Title can be found in Dierks Bentley's _Trying to Stop Your Leaving.

* * *

_She steps in, turning the water to its hottest. It's scalding her, burning her skin, but it doesn't matter. She can't feel anymore anyhow.

The past week swirls around her. Cyndi Lauper blares in her head. Haunts her. The only thing that replaces it is her own voice pleading, begging.

She can still feel the sticky, warm blood on her hands though she'd scrubbed it away days ago. It makes her dizzy. For a moment she thinks she's going to be sick. She sways and then sinks to the floor, hoping for -_ praying for -_ the water to wash her away.


	8. A True Companion I Will Always Be

**Spoilers/Timeline**: None/Set in future; B&B are in an established relationship

**Disclaimer**: Nope, Bones is still not mine. Title found in Vince Gill's _Feels Like Love_.

**A/n**: Something a little different from my usual, but the idea hit and I ran with it. Thanks to Jess (**CupcakeBean**) for listening to me fret and offering support.

* * *

I watched him walk out of aisle seven, glancing over his shoulder as though he thought he was being followed. Satisfied that he wasn't and that no one was paying him any attention, he headed for my register.

I'd seen him in here several times before, usually, with his son buying cold remedies and coloring books. I was certain he wasn't with the boy's mother anymore. In this day and age the lack of ring meant nothing, but I could tell by the way he interacted with the child. As if he had to make every minute count; even the twenty spent traipsing through a drug store.

Sighing, he glanced behind him once more and set the bag of miniature Snickers and package of pads on the counter. I forced myself to stifle a laugh at his look of awkward determination and reached for the bag of candy.

"This it, sir?"

He nodded and reached in his pocket as the Beatles' _Something _began to play; a slight smile settling on his face as he answered. I quickly busied myself organizing the magazine rack next to the register trying to disguise my eavesdropping.

He leaned against the counter, his voice lowering to a whisper. "Yeah, Bones, that's what I got." There was a slight pause as he picked up the package again. "Yes, they're infinity overnight with wings..." I glanced up as he finished the conversation, a slight look of annoyance overridden by one of complete adoration on his face. "That's it." He flashed me a smile that, even not quite at full wattage, made my knees buckle.

"Sounds good." I handed him the plastic bag and his change and leaned against the back counter, watching as he headed for the door. There was a definite lightness in his step and he was whistling as he stepped out into the warm May air.

I smiled and went back filling prescriptions. Whoever she was, she was very lucky.


	9. I Twisted It Wrong Just To Make It Right

**Spoilers/Timeline: **Set after, and references to, 4x14 _The Princess and the Pear_.

**A/N: **Thanks to **le_red_queen** for putting this idea in my head and to **Alanna1231** for her input and support.

**Disclaimer:** Do you really think I'd be here if I owned Booth? Title found in Ben Folds' _Landed_.

* * *

"The victim was found in East Potomac Park?" I call out as I hear the door close and grab my kit, moving towards the kitchen.

"Yeah." He stops, putting the file on the counter next to the mug of coffee awaiting him. He's been moving more smoothly in the past few days, but I notice the slight wince as he leans forward.

"Your back is still sore."

"A little." He screws the top on his mug and takes a sip.

"You finished the Vicodin, didn't you?"

"I did, thank goodness."

"Hmm?"

"It slowed my reaction time." I quirk an eyebrow in question, sensing there's some hidden meaning I'm missing, and he clears his throat. "Not really what you want when chasing your garden variety bad guys."

"It wouldn't be such an issue if you would just let me carry a gun." I open the file and continue before he can argue. "You should really see a physical therapist or, at least, a masseuse. I'm sure they could eliminate the lingering pain."

"I don't have the time." He looks at me for a moment before raising an eyebrow, a charm smile settling on his face. "Bones...."

I sigh, knowing I could argue, but the outcome would undoubtedly be the same. "Sit down."

He throws his jacket on the table and settles on the edge of the couch. I pause for a moment, then sit behind him, my thighs brushing against his. I feel him tense and then relax as I begin kneading his latissimus dorsi, slowly working towards where he carries the most pain. This should be awkward, but it's not. In fact, I find that I enjoy getting to help him for once. After all the guy hugs, it's the least I can do.

I let my hands continue to wander, a low hiss escaping him when I press into a particularly sore spot, and find myself thinking of Agent Perotta once again. I can't seem to get the woman off my mind and that, in and of itself, irritates me. I may not be the best at reading people, but I can tell when they're trying to manipulate me and she had certainly been trying to do so with her subtle questioning of my relationship with Booth and her pointed remarks about how _I _had injured him. I knew Booth didn't feel that way, but it still left me feeling unbalanced, unsure.

"Uh, Bones..."

"Hmmm?" I realize the pressure just isn't cutting it and slide my hands under his tee to knead a knot in the middle of his trapezius. I feel his sharp intake of breath and smile as he relaxes back into me.

"This is wonderful." Somehow, I know he's not talking about the massage - at least not _just_ the massage - and I press into his back more, hoping it conveys what I can't manage to say. The lightness in his voice as he scoots forwards and reaches for his jacket, tells me it has. "That's much better. Thanks..." His hand envelops mine, pulling me forward. Perhaps, more than either of us realize.


	10. Waiting For You

**Spoilers/Timeline:** None/Set in future.

**Disclaimer:** Check out the other chapters of this fic. Title from the Counting Crows song _Angels of Silences._

* * *

We step out into the frigid night, the door jangling closed behind us, and start down the block. I hang back a bit, watching as she gets caught in the moment: tiny flakes drifting around her, brisk air filling her lungs. Suddenly, her arms begin to windmill and I rush forward to try to steady her balance. It doesn't work and the only thing I manage to accomplish is providing a soft place for her to land.

"Damn ice." I mutter, my hands pressing into her sides. Still trying to steady her I suppose.

"Booth..." Her voice is shaky, breathless. I feel her hands snake through my hair and realize she's checking for any blood or bumps.

"I'm fine." She continues checking though and I shut my eyes enjoying the press of her against me.

It occurs to me that this is almost the perfect illustration of our relationship. I may have fallen first - recognized it first - but we're in it together now. One of us always pulling the other along, always prepared to catch the other should they fall. And, though nothing has been discussed, we've reached some sort of unspoken understanding that _eventually_... I shake my head. Better to leave the symbolic analysis to her, the writer.

I realize she's done with her examination and obviously satisfied with her findings as she's moved off of me and onto the sidewalk. I pull myself up and extend my hand to her, helping her to her feet.

As we start back down the sidewalk, I move to let go, but she grips my hand tighter. I relax, running my thumb across her knuckles and she lets out a soft sigh. I smile. Maybe we should lose our footing more often.


	11. The Secret of Life

**Spoilers/Timeline**: None/Set any time S2 onward

**Disclaimer**: Bones does not belong to me, yada, yada, yada. Title from Faith Hill's song _The Secret of Life_, which includes the lyric "_the secret of life is a good cup of coffee_".

* * *

He comes in and places the usual order: two coffees to go. I move behind the counter simultaneously searching for the new holiday cups and watching as his gaze drifts to the government issued SUV where his partner waits.

Finally, I find the cups (_why did Gladys hide them behind extra receipt tape?_) and begin filling them. He's still alternately looking at our menu (_as if there's been anything added to it in the past forty years_) and her, obviously trying not to get caught staring. She's engrossed in whatever she's holding though and he's taking advantage of it, eyes seeming to linger on the curve of her neck. Something in what she's just read puzzles her and she shakes her head; his smile grows even brighter than usual.

"Uh, sir." I hate to interrupt, but a line is starting to form behind him.

"Yeah?" He turns back to me, the corner of his mouth tipping upwards. It's nowhere near as striking as it was a mere second ago.

"You're all set." I point to the cups.

"Thanks." He pays and picks up the coffee. "Have a nice day." He starts for the door and I move to the next customer.

I wonder if she knows. It's hard not to see how he looks at her, but _nothing_ in all the times they've been in here together has made me think she's anything other than completely oblivious.

I close the cash register as he slides back into the vehicle. He hands her her cup and starts adjusting the visor, completely missing the smile – something not even close to her usual expression – she throws in his direction.

I drop Mrs. Folkner's change on the floor as realization hits. Not only does she know; she feels the same way. I smile and stoop to grab the dimes and quarters, my day considerably brightened.


	12. Come to Me Now

**Spoilers/Timeline**: None/Set in future (B&B are in an established relationship)

**A/N**: This is what happens when you cut me off from the internet for a night – not one, but two new fics. Thanks to Jess **(CupcakeBean)** for offering opinions.

**Disclaimer**: Bones still doesn't belong to me. Title (_Come to Me Now and Rest Your Head for Just Five Minutes_. Stupid character limit) from Crosby, Stills, and Nash's _Our House_.

* * *

"No, no, no!" She comes flying into the room, startling Frank so much he almost drops the couch on my foot. "This goes upstairs."

I glance to the staircase and back to the couch; we could manage it, but it would take at least an hour. "Are you sure, Ma'am? The sign says: 'downstairs, front room'."

Her eyes blaze and I fleetingly think that I'd never want to _really _cross her. "Of course, I'm sure."

"Bones," Sometime during our discussion he'd sidled up to her. Evaluating the scene, I suspect. "We agreed my couch was going upstairs and yours was staying down here."

"The more I contemplate it, the more convinced I am that my couch will be more aesthetically pleasing upstairs."

"Your couch is larger; it makes sense to leave it down here." He looks at Frank and I, effectively dismissing us from the room.

I pick up another box from the entryway and carry it to its destination, listening as they continue arguing.

"Why should size dictate where we put furniture? It should go where it will be most functional."

"And your couch will be most functional down here because the movers won't have to waste an hour and a half trying to get it upstairs."

She sends back a response that I can't hear, but, by the tone, I can tell she hasn't given in yet. The debate could go on, as evidenced earlier in the morning, for an hour if they weren't interrupted. One argument seems to bleed into the next and – I pause, counting – if separated I estimate this is the fourth one of the morning. I can't see how they'd ever make it.

"Besides, we wouldn't even need movers if it wasn't for all your books and artifacts." He gestures to a large box as they leave the room (_yes, we don't have to take the blasted couch upstairs_) and start towards the kitchen.

"What about all your sports memorabilia?" She crosses her arms, a look of annoyance and something else – amusement? – flitting across her delicate features.

I lean down and pick up a small, unlabeled box. Not wanting to be on the receiving end of another of her outbursts, I decide it's best to ask where they want it.

"Excuse me, this box doesn't have a label." I swallow my question as he takes it from my hands.

"Thanks, I'll take care of it." She's looking at him puzzled and I rush to find a box for the kitchen. After several minutes of searching, I finally discover one and am just setting it on the counter as she opens the box, pulling out a blue, handmade clay plate: one of those elementary school art projects. I should know; I have five similar gifts from my own kids.

I scoot out of the room, tripping over a rolled throw rug as I observe the confusion and surprise dancing in her eyes.

"Where?" Her question is soft as she turns the plate over and I note a grey blob that could possibly be a dolphin or a hippopotamus. It's unclear.

"Your father." I pause mid-step as she leans up, pressing a sweet kiss to his lips. He lets out a chuckle and wraps his arms around her. "Welcome home, Bones."

I put the box in my hands down, replacing it with one for the downstairs bathroom, and amend my earlier conclusion; they would definitely make it.


	13. Moments I Can't Live Without

**Spoilers/Timeline**: None/Set in future

**Disclaimer**: Nope, they still don't belong to me. Title found in Martina McBride's _How I Feel

* * *

_Of all the mornings it had to be this one? The one where Booth was tied up in court and she was scheduled to be giving a lecture to the incoming grad assistants - she glanced at the clock - five minutes ago. She threw her car into park, grabbed the folder off the passenger seat, and sprinted up the sidewalk.

"Hey, watch it!" A small voice pulled her from her thoughts and she glanced down, realizing she must have bumped right into the girl.

"Sorry, I'm in a hur--" She realized no explanation was going to placate the child she'd almost knocked to the sidewalk and started towards the front doors again, calling 'sorry' over her shoulder one more time.

She crossed the threshold and paused, trying to remember which way it was to the office. She'd only been in the building twice before and that had been at the beginning of the year. The panther statue sparked her memory and she turned left, sailing through the doors, narrowly avoiding bumping into what had to be a small herd of children.

"Hello, how can I help you?" The receptionist - her nametag read 'Aimeeee', but that couldn't be correct, could it? - grabbed a pen from the desk and signed the papers in front of her absentmindedly.

"Um, I'm dropping something off for-"

"Most parents are." She smiled warmly.

"I'm not his parent. Well, that's not entirely true. I do fulfill a caregiver role in his life, but-"

"Ma'am-"

"Dr. Brennan." She stole a glance at her watch; Cam was going to kill her.

"Dr. Brennan, who are you dropping homework off for?"

"It's not homework, it's a report on the nervous system-"

"Bones!" Parker's voice cut off the rest of her sentence and she turned, smiling at him hovering in the door of the office. Sometimes he was _just_ like his father.

"Hey, Park, I brought your report. Try not to leave it on the kitchen counter again." She ruffled his hair and was rewarded with the eye-roll of a disgusted ten-year-old.

"I'll try. Thanks, Mom."

She stared, gaping for a moment, as he turned and started down the hall. Smiling, she typed Booth a short text message and rushed off to work, knowing no amount of irritation from Cam could ruin the day.


	14. Is It Standing Right Here

**Spoilers/Timeline**: None/Set in the future

**Disclaimer**: Nothing has changed overnight - Bones doesn't belong to me. Title [**_Is It Standing Right Here Holding Your Hand?_**] from the Sugarland song _Love_.

* * *

"Table for two, please."

I look up and attempt to hide the shock that I'm sure colors my face as I register _both _of them standing at the podium. Usually one or the other shows up to pick up their take-out: various main dishes, but _always_ an extra order of mee krob. If he was the one who picked it up half the extra order would be gone before he was out the door.

"No take-out tonight?" I grab two menus and move from behind the podium.

"No, tonight we're varying from the established patt-"

"Bones!" He shoots her a look somewhere between annoyance and amusement. She just smiles. And somewhat nervously, I might add. I've never seen her look anything other than calm and collected. _Something is definitely going on._

"Well, right this way." I guide them to the main room and a table directly in my sight line. I set the menus on the table and wait for them to catch up. His shoulders have relaxed, his hand at the small of her back, and she's looking over her shoulder at him, smiling.

"Thanks." He stands next to her as she sits, hands stuffed in his pockets as though it's killing him not to pull the chair out for her, then settles in his seat.

"Wendy will be right over. Enjoy your meal." I go back to my post and busy myself with rolling silverware in napkins; it's a slow night.

The next time I look up, their food has arrived and they've settled into comfortable conversation. He's telling some sort of story, thrusting his chop sticks forward for emphasis and a piece of chicken goes flying. She laughs loudly, head tipping back, and he smiles affectionately. The intimacy of it catches me off guard and I force myself to turn away.

"Uh, hi." I look up, startled, at the group of six in front of me. _When had they gotten here? _"Could we get a table?"

"No problem. Right this way." I lead them to one of our smaller rooms and rush back to see what's happening at _their _table.

He's scooting forward in his chair, arm outstretched, offering her what appears to be the last of the mee krob. Her eyes open wide in surprise before she accepts it, smiling softly as she swallows. He grins and leans across the table to press his lips to hers.

"Booth!" She shoves him, quickly surveys the room, and leans in again.

They stand, his fingers lacing through hers as they move for the door. _Wendy must've dropped the check off when I wasn't looking._

"Night." They call almost in unison as they step out into the warm May air, eyes never leaving one another. I smile, happy for once to be ignored.


	15. You're Never Far Behind

**Spoilers/Timeline**: Set during 4x19 _The Science in the Physicist_.

**A/N**: I woke up with this in my head this morning and had to get it down. Enjoy.

**Disclaimer**: Bones isn't mine. Title from Keith Urban's _Only You Can Love Me This Way_.

* * *

"Fire in the hole!"

There's a bright light, the sound of glass shattering, and, suddenly, I find myself pinned to the wall. His hands almost landing behind my head as he leans in closer, shielding me from whatever he thinks has just occurred.

"What the hell was that?" His voice is low, eyes darting to the side, checking for a clue as to what happened, but mainly he's focused on me.

Logically, I know I should inform him that, in all likelihood, Hodgins and Mr. Nigel-Murray have carried out the experiment I just directed them _not _to do, but I can't. I'm caught in the concern, confusion, and - _and that something else_ - dancing in his eyes.

I register Cam moving towards the explosion and it sends my mind into action. _Explosion. Alarms. Lockdown. _"We should get out of here before lockdown. Let Cam-" The rest of the sentence is lost as he grabs my hand and we start running.

We slide through the closing doors and, as he lets go, I realize I'd never let anyone else pull me this way; that I never _want_ anyone else to again.


	16. Connected at the Heart

**Spoilers: **Tag 4x20 _Mayhem on a Cross. _

**A/N**: Who wasn't moved by this episode? So gorgeous. Here's my little edition to the wonderful fic pouring out.

**Disclaimer**: Bones doesn't belong to me. *sighs sadly* Title from the Ricochet song of the same name.

* * *

I can read people. It's my sort of my thing, recognizing the subtle shifts in meaning and feeling. I'm good at it. But this? I never saw _this _coming.

The way her walls suddenly crumbled, laying herself bare for the briefest of moments. I've been in this with her so long now I'd begun to believe it would never happen. That I would have to be content loving from afar, watching as she struggled to realize how much she _did_ care in her own way. Sometime in the past few days my powers of observation seem to have faltered though, her need to connect greater than ever. And the catalyst? _Sweets._

My hand hovers over my pocket as hers had earlier. I reach in and remove the handkerchief, playing with the edges of it as the emotion of... _everything_ overwhelms me and I all but collapse on the edge of my bed.

It should be washed. Tossed in the machine and spun until it's spotless, crisp white and new. Instead, I tuck it behind the framed picture of Parker on my nightstand, knowing what it contains. A little piece of her heart, a little piece of mine. And a promise.


	17. Look Out Any Open Door

**Spoilers/Timeline**: None/Set in future; Booth & Brennan are in an established relationship.

**A/N**: Thanks to Jess (**CupcakeBean**) for pretty much threatening the worry right out of me.

**Disclaimer**: I wish it was, but Bones is not mine. Title from Bruce Hornsby's _Look Out Any Window

* * *

_I watch as he takes another glove off the shelf and hands it to his son for inspection. Except his son has disappeared for the fourth time in an hour and the glove falls to the floor with a thud.

"Park!" Exasperation colors his voice as he moves down the aisle to see if his son is testing bats again.

I glance to my left and suppress a chuckle as the boy drops a tennis racket bigger than his entire body.

"Go," I whisper, stepping out from behind the counter to pick up the fallen equipment. He smiles and races back to his dad.

It only takes a minute for me to fix the display and then I'm behind the cash register again. Watching.

It seems they've finally decided on a glove for the boy, who keeps folding it and tucking it under his arm. I even catch him lean down to smell it once or twice. _There's nothing like the smell of a new glove_.

I assume they'll be headed to the front, eager to leave after having spent what surely has been an hour and a half testing different baseball gloves. Instead, they loiter._ Perhaps he needs some hockey equipment? _He regularly comes in to have his skates sharpened and most leagues are starting up again.... No, he stops in front of the softball equipment, his son nearly running into the back of his legs.

"How about this one, Dad?" He points to light pink glove halfway up the display.

He shakes his head and laughs, picking up tawny Rawlings. He crunches it a few times before throwing it up in the air. "This looks more like her, don't you think, bub?"

"How can it look like Bones, Dad? She's a person and that," he points to it, confused, "is a baseball glove."

He groans. Though an amused look settles on his face. "I just don't think Bones would appreciate pink."

The boy contemplates this for a moment and then nods, pulling his father to the front of the store. I busy myself with the stack of receipts in front of me, hoping I haven't been caught staring.

"Is this it?" I pick up the baseball glove and scan the tag.

"For today."

"That glove is mine. My old one broke." I look down at the boy with what must be an extremely confused look - gloves are hard to break or tear - because he continues. "There was an accident at the lab."

"The lab?" I raise an eyebrow and pick up the softball glove.

"We were doing experiments in my after school science program. I'm an official assistant now."

"That sounds like a lot of fun." I smile though I'm still not sure just what happened to the old glove. Perhaps I don't want to know.

"It is. My other mom - the one who that glove's for - works there."

"Your step-mom?"

His father colors, sputtering, "We're not married. We haven't even been dating that long..." The boy rolls his eyes at me like this bit of information couldn't be further from the truth. I fight back a laugh and hand him the bag as his dad pays.

"Well, congrats and enjoy the gloves." I smile as they head for the door, mind drifting back to the various times he's been in the store over the years. This isn't the first time his son has been with him. I doubt it will be the last. It is, however, the first I've seen him purchase women's equipment. And _that_ tells me everything.


	18. Are You What I Think You Are?

**Spoilers**: 4x23 _The Girl in the Mask_

**Disclaimer: **Bones does not belong to me. Title taken from the Guster's _Satellite_.

* * *

I toss in the sheets, struggling. This must be the third time I've woken tonight and I can't understand why. The ambient temperature of my apartment is well within range, the curtains are shut, and I'm relaxed after a night of ice cream and beer with Booth.

_So why do I keep waking up? _

I slide out of bed and shuffle to the kitchen thinking perhaps a glass of water will help. The light on the fridge clicks on as the ice cubes tumble into the cup, my mind replaying the events of the past few days.

Ken's voice filters in. "To work with Booth. Yes."

_Why had he said it like that?_ _Surprised; almost amused._

It's not logical. A simple affirmation of my statement would have sufficed; he didn't need to repeat it.

I gulp down some water, almost knocking my teeth against the rim of the glass as another conversation with Ken resurfaces.

I simply meant to communicate my understanding of how close he was with his sister, how their continued phone calls indicated their desire to connect to one another. The abiding love paramount in their relationship. Why had _I_ felt the need to clarify that I had no one in my life like that outside of work?

The water splashes out of the glass as I shakily place it in the sink. _Certainly it can't... _

_Oh god_.

Slowly, I pad back the hall, knowing sleep will elude me the rest of the night.


	19. The Days We Will Remember

**Spoilers/Timeline**: None/Set in future; B&B are in an established relationship.

**A/N**: The idea for this fic came from lyric from Keith Urban's _Sweet Thing_ that, for some reason, struck me as a very Brennanlike. Title taken from Keith's _These Are The Days_

**Disclaimer**: Bones still does not belong to me.

* * *

It wasn't their first or second date - he'd lost count of that particular statistic around date thirty-two.... Of course, there were all the "dates" they had been on without acknowledging it - shared dinners, movies, hell, even ice skating after his concussion - to take into account, too, but none of that _really _mattered. What did matter was that Temperance Brennan had been letting him kiss her for over four months now and he - _they _- couldn't be happier.

"Booth," her voice pulled him from his thoughts and he turned, smiling as his eyes swept over her: hair down, eyes bright, eyebrow raised in question, "Is my outfit not appropriate?"

"What?" He stilled on the sidewalk trying to remember where they were headed again. Oh right, hockey game. "No, Bones, jeans," he gulped, especially _those _jeans, "and a sweater are fine. Why?"

She shrugged, starting towards his waiting SUV. "Well, you clearly had something on your mind and, as we don't currently have a case, I thought perhaps I had miscalculated..."

He laughed, low, throaty. "Never."

"Socially, it's possible I di-"

"Hey," he started walking faster, arm falling across her shoulders as he caught up with her, "you've come a long way." His hand slid up and down her arm and he smiled as she leaned into his touch. "Besides, I like being able to teach you things every now and then."

She sighed, mouth turning up, as her head fell against his chest. "You're a good teacher."

"Wow, Bones, was that an honest to goodness compliment?"

She laughed, pulling out of the embrace to look at him. "It was bound to happen eventually."

He pressed a kiss to her temple and opened the door for her, smiling as she stepped up without a word. In the beginning she'd protested such behavior (_Booth, I'm perfectly capable..._); now she just smiled.

He tossed his keys in the air as he walked to the driver's side of the car, wondering once again how he'd gotten so lucky. He opened the door and...

"Bones, how did you..."

She grinned, eyes sparkling as she grabbed the keys from his hand. "I climbed over the console and slid the rest of the way..." She raised an eyebrow, trying to figure out why he was still hovering in the opened door. "Come on, let's go."

"But I always drive."

The ignition turned over a she pulled on the door handle, forcing him to step back. "Not anymore."

"But.... _my _government issued..."

"I guess you'll just have to _learn_ to share."

He grinned, shaking his head as he walked back around the SUV and climbed in. "I guess I will. You wouldn't happen to know a good teacher, would you?"

She laughed, nodding as she pulled out of the parking spot, pausing before merging into traffic. "Um, which way to the stadium?"

"Rink, Bones, and we need to go left; head for Curtis Memorial Parkway." He pressed a kiss to her cheek and leaned back, never happier to be in the passenger seat.


	20. Someone Lifts Your Feet Up Off theGround

**Spoilers/Timeline**: None/Set in future; B&B are in an established relationship.

**A/N**: Thanks to Jess (**CupcakeBean**) for initial feedback and **beatricks** for helping me re-work a section 3,354 times.

**Disclaimer**: Bones does not belong to me. Title found in Sugarland's _We Run_.

* * *

I sigh in frustration, folding the clean towels for what must be the fifteenth time this morning. Midweek at the gym isn't normally very busy, but there are generally more than two people working out. Especially around noon; people on lunch break grab some food and utilize their time as best as possible.

The scanner beeps, I look up to see who's logged in, and my breath catches. I haven't seen him in here in months. His broad shoulders, strong chest, and slim waist always catch the eyes of whatever women are in the club; I know I've been caught staring on more than one occasion.

Today he's wearing track pants and a wifebeater, his hair cut closer than I ever recall seeing it. It's easy to imagine him as a service man, protecting the country, fighting for what's right. The way he carries himself has always made me suspect as much, despite the government-issued SUV he drives.

He sets his bag on the ground, scanning the nearly empty room for someone. Obviously whoever he's looking for hasn't arrived yet and he glances at his watch, grinning as he moves to a machine to do shoulder presses.

I put the towels on the table in front of the desk, moving back to my seat as people file in, chatting and laughing. His eyes dart to the door, not in worry I realize, but in amusement. I wonder who he's waiting for; perhaps one of the FBI muckety mucks I've seen him with from time to time.

Now that it's more crowded I decide to circulate the floor, make sure no one is pushing themselves too hard. I keep glancing back to him as I make my way to the ellipticals, watching as he starts doing push-ups, effortlessly raising and lowering himself to the floor.

The door opens and a regular at our kickboxing classes rushes in, her auburn her flying out of its tight bun as she looks around. Out of the corner of my eye I realize he's stopped his workout, giving himself a moment to let his eyes wander over her before he raises his hand and waves.

I do a quick sweep of the free weight room and move back to the desk as she makes her way to him, talking about toxicology reports and being steamed by Angela. He laughs, gently correcting her verb as he stands.

They walk towards the treadmills, his hand pressed into the small of her back as they talk animatedly. It's the most relaxed I've ever seen her and I nearly drop my water bottle when, after a fleeting look around the room, she turns and kisses him, quickly, but soundly.

He grins, closing the distance between them again and I force myself to look away, scanning the computer to see what personal training sessions I have scheduled for the night.

Minutes later, his low laughs echo through the room and pull my attention back: he's nearly collapsing from amusement as she reaches across his treadmill, increasing the incline further. She just smiles at him, increasing hers as well so that they're at an even pace and I sigh, hoping that one day I find _my _running mate.


	21. It Just Comes Natural

**Spoilers/Timeline**: 5x01 _Harbingers in the Fountain/_Set 3 months post surgery

**A/N**: Thanks to **SSJL **for the read through. Also to **nicolemack **and **beatricks** for spot checks.

**Disclaimer**: Bones does not belong to me. Chapter title from the George Strait song of the same name.

* * *

Her leg brushes against mine and I suck in a breath, realizing she's nervous. Bones, her emotions always locked behind a calm veneer, is outwardly nervous; I smile at the thought, my own foot tapping impatiently against the linoleum.

"Booth," her leg stops as she turns to me, "it's going to be fine. It's quite common for neurologists to schedule MRIs or PET scans three months post surgery to assess how your brain is healing, to make sure there are no new complications."

"That doesn't make it any less terrifying."

"I know..." She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth in worry before powering on. "But you haven't had any more hallucinations, your investigative skills are back to your pre-operation level, you're _you_..."

The unspoken 'we're us' doesn't slip past me and I grin a little, leaning back against the hard plastic chair. She's right though, we're back. Except....

Except it still takes everything I have not to pull her against me and crush my lips to hers every time we're alone together. Sometimes even when we're not. The feeling is overwhelming, intoxicating. It makes me wish she was ready.

Because I know she's not. More and more often I can feel her reaching out to me - hell, since she's returned she's been to every one of my post operative check ups - but there are still times when I feel her pulling away, unsure if she's really allowed to feel this way.

It's that and the same fear that held me back pre-operation - the fear of losing her entirely - that prevent me from taking the step, from showing her that, yes, I am here and I'm not going anywhere.

The time is coming though. After near death experience number what? Four? Five? I can't keep a tally between the two of us anymore... I know I can't keep waiting. She deserves better. _We _deserve better.

The door to the room opens and Dr. McBean walks in, large manila folder tucked under his arm and Bones' hand slides into mine, her nails digging into my skin so hard I think she might draw blood.

"Mr. Booth, Dr. Brennan," he nods at us both, pulling the PET scan from the envelope, "everything looks great. If you look at the PET scan..." It's all I need to hear; I don't even glance at the scan (I know what it will show).

Instead, I let his words sink in and stare down at our linked hands. She's loosened her grip, but her fingers remain threaded through mine, her thumb grazing across my skin. Our eyes meet as Dr. McBean reiterates the timeline for subsequent check ups and she smiles, her entire face lighting up. A calm washes over me and I squeeze her hand.

Soon.

We deserve it.


	22. A Toast To Now

**Spoilers/Timeline:** Set post 5x01 _Harbingers in the Fountain_

**A/N**: Thanks to **beatricks **for beta-ing.

**Disclaimer: **Twenty-two chapters and Bones still doesn't belong to me. Title taken from Dan Fogelberg's _Same Old Lang Syne_, which was the song that triggered this idea in my head.

* * *

"Seeley."

"Becca?" It comes out sounding startled, but I can't help it. It's not every day I find my ex hovering in the door of my office.

"Can you take Parker a little early?"

"Yeah." I stand and walk to the door even as Parker rushes into the office to talk with my partner. I feel the corner of my mouth tip up: she's already closed the file in front of her, ready to hear about school or the latest experiment he's completed at the Jeffersonian. I turn back to Rebecca, ushering her to just outside my office. "Is everything all right?"

"I think so... my mom... they said it was a mild heart attack but..."

"Oh Bec, I'm sorry. Take however long you need." I squeeze her shoulder, a wave of emotion - a comfortable, familial love - washing over me. "You know I love any time I get to spend with him."

I turn back towards my office and am almost knocked off my feet as Bones' eyes meet mine over Parker's head. The rush of warmth - _love_ - is overpowering. Familiar. One I've felt hundreds of times before: watching her spin in a circle dressed as Wonder Woman, holding her close after burying Ripley, charming her into fixing my back...

I reassure Rebecca that everything will be fine and grin as I push against the door, certain Sweets is wrong, determined to take it slow to show her.

She's busy explaining the difference between a fracture and a break to Parker, but she raises an eyebrow at me as I sit back down. I just nod and grab the closed file in front of her, opening it to add my signatures by hers. She lets out a small laugh before beginning to explain fractures in more detail and I look down, initialing the forms, my smile growing.

Slow. For me. For her.

_For us_.


	23. Knees Buckled, White Knuckled

**Spoilers/Timeline**: Missing scene from 5x10 _The Goop on the Girl._

**A/N**: Thanks to **space77** for the read through and suggestions. Also love to my chat crew for putting this idea in my head.

**Disclaimer**: As much as I wish it did, Bones does not belong to me. Chapter title [Knees Buckled, White Knuckled, We're Holdin' on Tight] from the Sugarland song _Speed of Life_.

* * *

I lock the door behind me and, panting, collapse against the nearest wall. The Saints weren't going to cut it much longer. Despite Bones' complete concentration on collecting evidence, she was bound to notice just what effect she was having on me. Nothing new, but much harder to hide when she was at eye level with...

Yeah, thank God, Saint Abel, Saint Mark... all of them... for having Cam interrupt us when she did. Otherwise, I wouldn't be responsible for my actions.

Not that I'm not dying to press myself against her, to show her how much she means to me - I'm almost desperate to do so - but I need to be sure. Completely confident that she's on the same page as me. And I'm not.

Yet.

Taking a deep breath, I walk into the nearest stall, slipping off the borrowed lab coat and letting it and my spare clothes drop to the floor. I should really be moving faster if we're going to catch this guy before he ends his broadcast, but the FCC scanner unit won't be here for another fifteen minutes and I... well, I'm wound so tight right now that the slightest contact from Bones might prove to be very embarrassing.

I shut my eyes and try to think decidedly unsexy thoughts, but all I can picture are her hands skimming over me, fingers grazing my waist as she removes my belt. I groan; there's no way I can continue the case in _this _state.

Shoving my boxers down, I grasp my cock and, damn, does it feel good. I'm so hard it physically hurts and I wonder how someone so observant about body structure - how the curve of my back indicates long term issues, the x-rays of my feet show the torture I've endured - can completely miss this.

My hand begins to move, slowly at first, creating the pressure I know I need as my mind flashes back to moments ago when she swatted my hands away so _she _could remove my shirt. Evidence - my eyes slam shut and I brace myself against the wall - evidence my ass. I'm perfectly capable of shrugging out of a shirt without leaving it in a wrinkled mess on the floor.

My orgasm is building quickly - hell, I was halfway there before I even stepped into the bathroom - my breath coming in heavy pants as I picture her mouth, hear her voice complimenting my acrom-something. God, she almost sounded as if she was in awe.

And then she'd dropped to her knees in front of me - only to recover evidence of course, but try telling my body (_my mind_) that - her eyes shining as she explained what she'd discovered on my belt buckle.... my head falls against the wall as my pace increases... faster and faster....

I jerk forward, shin banging off the stall door as the heat sweeps over me, my body wracked by the pleasure. Shit, how can she provoke such an earth shattering reaction without even being in the same room?

Slowly, I right myself, pulling in deep breaths as my pulse slows, my body cooling. I reach for my jeans, pushing aside the now soiled lab coat, and smile; I can focus completely on the case now.

*Bang bang bang*

"Booth? Why's the door locked?" Her voice floats through from the other side of the wall, worried, almost panicked. "You've been in there awhile; are you ok?"

"Fine," I gulp, tug my pants on the rest of the way, throw my shirt over my head, and glance around the room for several moments before tossing the damn lab coat in the nearest trash can. "I'll be right there."

Opening the door, I struggle with my belt as I attempt to slip into my jacket at the same time.

"Here, let me." And before I can protest her hands are tugging the belt the rest of the way through the loops, patting the buckle closed. "All set," she straightens and begins moving towards the doors; _are her cheeks flushed_? "let's go find the transmission source."

I smooth my jacket and follow after her. Focused? Yeah, maybe not.


	24. It's Hard to Slow It Down

**Spoilers/Timeline**: Missing scene from 5x10 _The Goop on the Girl._

**A/N**:Companion piece to "Knees Buckled, White Knuckled, We're Holdin' on Tight". Many thanks to **space77** for insisting I write this and looking it over once I did.

**Disclaimer**: Bones does not belong to me. Title [It's Hard to Slow It Down When It Feels So Right] found in the Sugarland song _Speed of Life.

* * *

_Stepping back into the Jeffersonian, I take a deep breath, having just delivered Booth the spare clothes from his SUV. I drop my lab coat in my office and run my hands through my hair. Despite the frigid December air, the tension that's been building in my body all morning is overwhelming. I need to do something.

Quickly, I slip into the restroom, grateful that the FCC scanner unit won't be here for another half hour, that he's busy changing out of his borrowed lab coat. The door slams shut behind me and I flip the lock before sinking onto the nearby chair. What was so endearing about Booth in Jeffersonian blue? How could he look so... cute... and sexy at the same time?

The chair scrapes across the linoleum as I try to get comfortable, my eyes slipping shut, the image of him perched on the lab table while I unbutton his shirt rushing back. The throbbing between my legs intensifies and I groan, sliding my hands down my sides.

It had been so damn hard not to let my hands drift over his shoulders, span his waist, trace his strong abdominals - I shudder, hands flicking open the fly on my pants, fingers eagerly pushing my panties aside - it had been a good thing Cam interrupted when she did. I've been so on edge around him lately who knows what would have happened next.

Not that something happening between us would be bad. Far from it. But with him I know it would be _more _and part of me - the not-as-deep-down-as-everyone-thinks part that's aware of 'making love' and the promise of _forever_ - isn't quite ready for it.

Yet.

Hell, even having my hands in his hair had increased the desire coursing through me and I found myself relieved to have evidence to focus on instead of the reaction (the way my pulse increased as I slid his shirt off, how my breath hitched as I crouched to push off his pants) he was creating in me, the one I knew I was causing in him.

Yes, Cam's disruption had been well timed.

Slowly, my fingers begin to move against my skin, grazing lightly over my sex before sliding lower, teasing.

God, I'm wet.

Uncomfortably so.

How - oh shit, does that pressure feel good - can a man who prides himself on being able to read people so easily not realize he does this to me?

That undoing his tie, being at eye level with his waist, had left me craving - _needing - _release. My hips buck forward bringing my orgasm even closer, small tremors starting to radiate through my body.

Damn, he really did have a perfect acromion. And his back... the warmth of his skin, the way his muscles would twist under my hands as he moved above me...

My fingers press desperately over my clitoris again and again, harder and harder until I'm chanting his name low under my breath, clutching the chair as the pleasure rushes through me.

Opening my eyes, I lean back against the cold wall for a moment, completely gratified: now I can concentrate on helping him locate Santa's accomplice.

My respiration finally slowing, I button my pants and shakily stand, holding my breath as I pull open the restroom door. I expect to find him leaning against my doorway, arms crossed over his chest as he waits for me, but he's not there. In fact, my eyes sweep through the lab, he's nowhere to be found. Where is he? He should be done changing by now...

All other possibilities exhausted, I pound on the men's restroom door, hoping he's inside. His voice, low, perhaps a little anxious, answers me and I let out a small sigh of relief.

Several minutes later, the door finally opens and he stumbles out, trying to close his belt and slide into his jacket at the same time. I can't stop myself: I bend over and close the buckle for him.

"All set," a jolt of heat gathers low in my belly again and I turn towards the doors, not trusting myself to look at him, "let's go find the transmission source."

I feel him fall into step behind me, his hand hovering over my back. Completely gratified? Perhaps I should reevaluate.


	25. It Gets Better Every Day

**Spoilers/Timeline**: Reference to 2x09 _Aliens in a Spaceship_/Set in future_  
_

**A/N**: Written in response to **SSJL**'s prompt at LJ comment fic meme: _Brennan & Hodgins, Gravedigger anniversary_. Thanks to **space77** for the read through.

**Disclaimer**: Do I really have to? Bones isn't mine; title from Keith Urban's_ Used to the Pain_

* * *

Five years.

How was it five years?

Post trial, testimony, verdict.... they still didn't have all the answers...

After five years they should have all the answers.

She leaned back in her desk chair, breathing deeply. She didn't need Booth's lips lingering on hers that moment longer, his hand gripping hers just a _little_ more tighter when he'd dropped her off that morning, to tell her today was the day. She always knew. The day had some odd feeling to it, which was completely irrational, but...

"Dr. B?" Hodgins' voice jarred her from her thoughts and she nodded as he walked in, taking a seat across from her without invitation.

His eyes darted around the room, lingering on the top shelf containing her novels; she wanted to ask why he was here in the middle of the day when they were waiting for victim identification and the results of paint samples, but she knew.

They both did.

"You," she glanced to the shelf he was staring at, the one they both knew still held two torn slips of paper, "you accused me of having faith and, while denied it, I did... _I do_. There's no one I trust more than Booth and you knew that, but" she paused, shuffling through the files in front of her, "I'm glad it was you down there with me... I needed someone who understood the science, could help me remain focused... logical... and, while Booth_ tries_..."

"Logic really isn't the big guy's strong suit." He laughed, then sobered, mouth turning up in a softened smile. "You saved my life."

She nodded, her breath stilling. She could have just as easily killed him, but saying as much seemed as though it would somehow diminish the experience.

Weaken it.

Reaching across her desk, she wrapped her fingers around his and squeezed.

He lifted his head, determination now joining the appreciation and hurt apparent in his striking blue eyes. "We're gonna have all the answers one day. They're," he tilted his head towards the lab where their coworkers - _their family_ - moved around quickly, attempting to determine the identity of the middle-aged murder victim on her lab table, "too brilliant for us not to. I," he rose, exhaling sharply, "I should go though; report on the paint should be back."

She found herself nodding again, watching as he stood in her doorway a moment before seamlessly blending back into the action of the lab. They might not ever have all the answers, but it was what they needed to believe... was what got them through this day _every_ year.

Closing her eyes, she leaned back in her chair for another brief moment.

He had said she'd saved his life and, though it had taken her years to realize it, he'd shown her how important it was to risk hers.


	26. Having It All

**Spoilers/Timeline**: None/Set in future_  
_

**A/N**: Written in response to **wtvoc**'s prompt at comment fic meme: _booth and pops; booth goes to ask if he can have gramma's ring_.

**Disclaimer**: Nope, it hasn't changed from last chap: Bones isn't mine; title from Sugarland's _Love

* * *

_"Shrimp!" He watched as Nurse Soft Hands left the room and his grandson entered. "This is a surprise... you come to tell me that I'm gonna have another grandchild out of wedlock?"

"No," Booth shook his head, lowering himself to a chair across from Pops, "not yet..."

"You mean you and the good doctor finally got it together? How long has this been going on?"

"I guess," he quickly glanced at his watch, the corner of his mouth tipping up as he did some silent math in his head, "it's been about three months now. I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner, but-"

"I get it. Really, I do." He smiled; these two had been circling each other for, from what he could tell, years. It wasn't surprising they'd wanted to keep it to themselves for a bit. "How's it feel to finally get to hold her, son?"

He blushed. Honestly, truly blushed, which caused Pops to laugh and prod him in the arm. He_ did _ask a question after all.

"Amazing. Wonderful... Iaccidentallyproposedto her..."   Hank had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. "Got lost in the heat of the moment?"

"No!" His cheeks flushed an even deeper red, remembering her fingers tracing his ribs, mouth sucking at his jaw, the night before. "Nothing like that. I just..."

He was struggling.

_How could he explain it?_

They'd been curled up on the couch watching hockey, her head resting comfortably on his shoulder when she'd announced she had a surprise for him. Slowly, she'd reached behind him to the end table and, shyly, handed him two tickets to the sold out Monster Jam show Parker had been begging to go to. Her tentative smile blossomed into one of relief - joy - as he'd pulled her closer and pressed a kiss to her temple, love overwhelming him. She'd wanted to make them - _her family _- happy.

God, he really loved her.

And that's when it had happened.

The words out of his mouth before he'd realized it: a soft 'I love you' followed by the two neither of them expected to hear him say.

Ask.

At least, not yet.

And what had she done? Brushed her lips across his before letting her head fall against his shoulder once more.

"You in there, Seeley?"

He nodded, eyes drifting over the mementos in Pops' room: old books, newspaper clippings about him and Bones, pictures upon pictures of Pops and Gram... "She gave me a gift... something I wasn't expecting... and I just got overwhelmed..." he took a deep breath, fingers tapping idly against the table, "she didn't answer, knew I hadn't planned on asking, but..." he lifted his eyes, meeting Pops' amused gaze, "she didn't tense up or argue about the institution itself like she would have in the past so..." he realized he was rambling and inhaled sharply once more; _better get to the point_, "when I ask her for real I'd like to... uh, could I give her Gram's ring?"

He couldn't take it any longer, the pained look on his grandson's face was too much. Rising, he shuffled over to the night stand by his bed and rummaged around for a few minutes before returning to the table. "You're a lot like us, you know? Driving each other crazy, always pushing, but, at the end of the day, you're there for each other. Always. Gram would like that; she'd want Temperance to have it."

Booth's fingers closed around the box, thanks going unspoken as he slid it into his pocket and picked up the deck of cards in front of him. "Gin rummy?"

"I'm always up for a game." He settled back in the chair as Seeley dealt, the tension and quiet sadness he usually wore no longer present. He was relaxed... _happy_... "Congrats, shrimp.

"That's a little premature Po-"

"No," he picked up his cards, slowly beginning to arrange them, "congratulations, Seeley."


	27. Mmm, That's Our Kind of Love

**Spoilers/Timeline**: None/Set in future_  
_

**A/N**: Written in response to **wtvoc**'s prompt: _booth and brennan; booth in the kitchen, preparing his specialty. he must be wearing an apron, with our without an amusing phrase printed on it._ Thanks to **space77 **for the look over!

**Disclaimer**: Bones doesn't belong to me; title from Lady Antebellum's _Our Kind of Love

* * *

_She dropped her bag on the floor and inhaled deeply, the muffled cursing coming from her kitchen causing her to laugh. It felt good to be home though she had a suspicion it was coming back to the originator of the cursing that was the actual source of her relief; the weekend of press had been exhausting and, though it seemed ridiculous to admit, after only two days she had missed him.

"Booth," she let her fingers linger on the key to his apartment, the one nestled next to hers, idly wondering if she could convince him to give it up, "what are you making it? it smells ama-"   Her breath left in a small gasp and she stilled in the doorway as her eyes lingered over him.

He was standing, back towards her, hunched over her stove, wearing the sheriff's badge socks she'd bought him for his birthday, jeans, and - she reached out, gripping the wall for support - an apron tied tightly around his waist.

_Where had he found an apron?_

"Hey," he turned to face her, shutting the oven door as he did, "you're back."

"You knew I was returning this evening, why else would you be in my apartment?"

"Oh, you caught me, Bones, I routinely break in here to cook." He winked and adjusted the neck straps of the apron, directing her attention to his strong chest and she realized it was _her_ apron.

Well, the one that Angela had made for her a couple years ago after finding out about her lessons with Carly. Deep blue with "Dig This" stretched across the front, it not only accentuated his bare chest, but highlighted his broad shoulders and slim waist. It fit him, well, there was no other word for it, _deliciously_.

"Perhaps we should correct things so that you no longer have to break into my place and I no longer have to break into yours." She glanced down at the floor realizing that now she couldn't just leave it hanging there. "I think we should move in together."

He almost dropped the pan he'd been placing in the sink. "What?! Really?"

"Yes, we're practically cohabitating already; it seems illogical to continue to do so from two sepa-"

His lips crashed down on hers and she smiled against him as his hands cupped her face. "Yes, god, yes," he pressed a kiss to her forehead, "when can I move in?"

Chuckling, she let her head fall to his shoulder for a moment before standing on her toes to glance at the mess on the counter behind him. "Whenever is most convenient for you and Parker."

"I guess I should wait for my lease to run out, but once it does..." He grinned, dimples appearing as he tugged her closer.

"That sounds logical to me. Now," she stepped out of his embrace, investigating the empty pan in the sink, "what are you cooking?"

"Well, I had planned on making the Seeley Booth specialty, but since that's chicken parmesan I had to adjust it some... turned it into eggplant parm instead...." In an uncharacteristic move, he bit his lip, worry evident on his face, "I hope it turns out all right."

"If it tastes half as good as it smells, there's nothing to worry about." She leaned against the counter, watching as he continued to clean up, "You really shouldn't be cooking without a shirt on though..." she gulped, the lower muscles of his back contracting as he moved, "it's dangerous..."

"I got sauce on it; didn't want to make it worse." He glanced over his shoulder, a wave of arousal sweeping through him as he realized what she was observing. Inhaling sharply, he moved towards the fridge, needing to distract both of them before his carefully prepared dinner was ruined.

"How were the interviews?"

"Boring. Same questions as always."

"Not surprising. Wine?"

"That would be nice.... I just don't know how many times I can state that you're _not _Andy, that anthropology is always my first priority..."

He handed the bottle over his shoulder, closed the door, and promptly found himself pinned to the cold metal, the wine bottle barely settling on the edge of the counter before her hands grasped his hips and her teeth scraped over his collarbone.

"Oh, fuck," his arms wrapped around her waist automatically, pulling her closer as his mouth met hers, tongue tracing her bottom lip.

Sighing, she ground against his growing erection, her fingers unknotting the apron, skimming down his spine and slipping under the waistband of his jeans. "Shit, I..." her fingers pressed into his ass, driving him, if possible, even closer, "how could I need you_ this much_ after just two days?"

His hips bucked forward, hands tangling in her hair as he sucked on her jaw. "Mmm, coz I'm," his back bowed, heated skin pressing against cool metal as her hips rocked against his, "I'm part of you and you're..." he pulled back, thumb caressing her jaw, "you're _definitely_ part of me."

"Hmmm, I think I can accept that." She stepped out of his embrace, lacing her fingers through his, and started toward the bedroom.

He took a fleeting look at the oven and grinned - dinner could burn (there was always that frozen pizza he'd bought as a back-up plan) - before following after her.


	28. Cold Hands Warm Heart

**Spoilers/Timeline**: None/Set in future

**A/N**: Thanks, once again, to** space77 **for the look over.

**Disclaimer**: Unless something has changed in the last hour, Bones isn't mine. Title from the Brendan Benson song of the same name.

* * *

He groaned, twisting in the sheets, his foot brushing against her calf as he tried to get comfortable. Rolling to his side, he inhaled, breath finally evening, as he let his eyes drift over her exposed back.

"Bones, can I," he tugged at the sheet, head dropping back to the pillow as he realized she was, somehow, already asleep.

It had been like this since she'd been pregnant with Olivia. He'd let her get away with it then because she was _carrying their child_, but that was almost six months ago...

She'd never been a cover hog before.

Grabbing the edge of the blanket, he pulled, beginning what had become his nightly tug of war. Her arm wrapped around the fabric and tugged it closer. He bit the inside of his cheek in frustration; he wasn't sure why he expected any different outcome at this point, but it was worth a shot... maybe he could grab just a little more than a quarter of the top sheet tonight...

Sliding to the center of the bed, he tucked his knees behind hers and gently tried to wrench some of the sheet from her grasp. Her grip just tightened, cocooning herself in the covers, even as her head fell back against his chest.

"This," he fisted the sheet tucked under her side forcefully, "is just," and yanked, "ridiculoussss..."

The sheet gave way and he rolled, surprised, right off the bed and onto the floor.

Blinking, he ran his hands through his hair and took several steadying breaths until his view of the ceiling was obstructed by his beautiful partner's concerned face.

"What happened?" Her eyes ran the length of him - over his chest, across his hips, and down his legs tangled in the sheet - no doubt surveying for any injury. "Are you ok?"

"I'm fine, I just," he raised himself to his knees, tossing the sheet back onto the mattress, "I was just doing my nightly fight for an inch of sheet and was surprised when it actually gave some..."

She raised an eyebrow, offering him her hand as he stood the rest of the way. "Nightly?"

"Yeah," he slid in next to her, thumb caressing her palm, "ever since you were about five months along with Olivia you've seemed to need every cover in our bed wrapped around you, which was fine then, but," he pressed his lips to her shoulder, "it's getting cold, baby... I'm gonna freeze all winter if I don't get at least half the sheet..."

Laughing, she nudged her leg between his and let her head fall against his chest. "Perhaps we should purchase another lightweight cover for your side of the bed... or," she kissed his jaw, hands settling low on his back, pulling him closer to her, "or we could just use body heat..."

He grinned, hands cupping her hips lightly, before closing his eyes and murmuring 'sounds good to me' against her lips.


	29. Standing Right In Front Of You

**Spoilers/Timeline**: Set post 5x22 _The Beginning in the End_, therefore, references it in a broad sense.

**A/N**: It's been awhile since I've written one of these; it kind of spun a little out of control. I hope you enjoy.

**Disclaimer**: Nope, Bones still does not belong to me. Title from the Keith Urban song of the same name.

* * *

He finished wrapping the crisp, white paper around the package, handing it to the man in front of his stall. The man quickly counted out his change, reassured Frank that the contents of the package would be what made his Fourth of July celebration the best on the block, and moved on, pushing his way through the crowded aisle.

Frank grinned as he slid the homemade sausage back in the case. The year round farmers' market was always busier in the summer, but the week before the Fourth was downright hectic. He didn't care. The market not only provided an extra avenue of income, but it allowed him to connect to the customers. To know who they were, what they bought every third weekend when they made it to his stand. He knew Rose Sharpido would want chipped beef, a pound of American cheese, and, if her son was in town, two stuffed pork chops. Her bright smile and look of amazement as she counted out money for the fresh product was just one of the many reasons he loved working here. It was beneficial for all involved.

Zeroing the scale on top of the counter, he looked up and gasped. Well, maybe not gasped... fifty-two year old men didn't gasp. He _did _inhale sharply, however, his eyes widening at the next person in line. It had been over a year since he'd seen her moving hurriedly from stall to stall each Saturday, stocking up on vegetables and fruit... every once and awhile purchasing a piece of shoo fly pie from the Amish stand across from him. Her hair was shorter, bangs skewed over her forehead, smile wider than he'd ever seen lighting her face, but it was definitely her. The striking blue eyes, the strong jawline, and bold necklace told him as much.

Automatically, he reached behind him for a container and began sliding down the case to scoop out the quarter pound of potato salad she was so fond of. He'd just picked up the spoon when the man sidled up and draped his arm over her shoulders, eyes never leaving her face even as she attempted to point out something in the case before them.

"Booth..." Her elbow nudged his ribs and Frank stifled a laugh as the man rubbed his side, feigning injury. "A sirloin or T-bone?"

"Did you see those T-bones? They could feed me _and _Parker _and_-"

"I'm not so sure about that. You have quite an appetite."

"Darn right, I do, Bones." He grinned wolfishly, pulling her closer. "Now would you please tell the poor guy what you want so he can wait on his other customers and we can get back to the apartment." His smile widened even further as she rolled her eyes and stepped towards the case.

"Hi Frank."

"Dr. Brennan, so good to see you again." He bit the inside of his lip to keep from laughing; Booth was giving him his best 'look but don't even think of touching' stare. The man clearly had it bad. "What can I get for you?"

"I'd like that sirloin in the front." She glanced back at Booth. "Also a pound of bacon. Oh, and a quarter pound of potato salad."

"Coming right up." He picked up the container he'd abandoned on the top of the counter, watching as Booth twined his fingers with Brennan's, tugging her back towards him. His lips brushed against her temple and he swore he heard the doctor sigh as she leaned back against him, relaxed as she waited for her order.

It was really something to observe. Not only was this first time he'd seen her bring anyone to the market, but it was the first time in all the years she'd been stocking up on potato salad and cheese, that she'd purchased meat of any sort from him. He smiled softly as Booth tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, his lips landing high on her neck as he whispered against her. Frank was surprised that she allowed such public displays of intimacy, but then - he finished wrapping the bacon, watching as her fingers splayed over Booth's wrist, her eyes slipping shut for a moment - she seemed almost oblivious to their location. The only thing that was important was the man with his arms around her.

"Dr. Brennan? You're all set." Her head jerked up, a slight blush sweeping across her cheeks, but her smile only grew as she accepted the parcels and slid them into the reusable bag Booth had slung over his shoulder.

"Thanks Frank." She began rooting in her wallet for the appropriate bills, muttering about 'Parker... last five...' as she did. "I realize I have neglected to introduce you." She passed him the money and titled her head towards Booth. "This is my partner Special Agent Seeley Booth. Booth, Frank's been providing me with high quality dairy products for years."

"Nice to meet you," Booth said, his grip firm as he shook Frank's hand. "I'm sure you'll be seeing even more of her now... all she talked about in her e-mails last year was how much she missed the fresh food from the market, that even though she could get all the spices she wanted the rest left-"

Laughing, she cut him off. "That is not_ all_ I talked about." She gave him a significant look before turning back to Frank. "However, I did miss the variety provided here. If you can get any smaller T-bones, I will most likely purchase those next weekend." Her eyes swept the case one last time and, nodding, she moved to the next stall where Frank had seen often seen her stocking up on tomatoes, cucumbers, and green beans.

He turned to his next customer and began filling her order, stealing glances at the couple. Booth stood behind her once again, his hand cupping her hip as Julie dumped a basket of onions into a bag for them. Frank almost dropped Mr. Egdir's steaks as Dr. Brennan turned in his arms, kissing him deeply before resting her head on his chest. Booth looked as shocked as anyone by the action, dimples appearing as his mouth turned up and his hand came to rest in the curve of her waist, holding her close.

Julie had finished compiling their order and, not a minute after they were gone, threw up a "back in five" sign before sprinting to Frank's stall.

"Did you see-"

"Yeah..." He leaned forward, watching as Dr. Brennan wrapped her arm around Booth's waist and he pressed a kiss to her cheek.

"I'm not sure which of them is happier, but damn would I kill for someone to look at me like that."

He nodded, waving as she hurried back to her stand, a throng of customers jostling to be the next to get their fresh vegetables. Moving to take care of the next person in line, he inhaled deeply, feeling even happier than when he'd begun to unload his products that morning. He chuckled, piling slices of turkey high on the scale as he watched Booth drag Dr. Brennan to the stall across from his, pointing at the various pies and pastries.

Frank had asked her a long time ago about whether she had anyone special in her life. She'd shrugged it off then, asserting that she spent most of her time working or spending time with her partner. Now - her laugh carried across the aisle as Booth forced her to take a bite of the cookie he had purchased before pressing his lips to hers - now it looked like she'd found her partner for life.


End file.
